Chapter Seven
It seems impossible to return to the ball as though everything is normal after what I just experienced.
I let Benjamin lead me around, smile and nod when it’s required of me, but my mind keeps wandering.
Every time I see a vampire entwined with another human on a chaise somewhere, my knees go weak with the memory of Claude holding me on that couch.
My eyes keep searching for a sign of dark curls and blue eyes in the crowd, but I don’t see Claude anywhere.
Until I turn around and he’s right in front of me.
Benjamin stiffens at my side, pulling me closer. “Lord Claude,” he says, making it sound like both a warning and a question.
I study Claude in silence, trying to see the apparent danger that Benjamin sees. I still can’t; he seems too pretty to be threatening, though maybe his apparent insouciance is a deliberate mask.
“I would like to apologize,” Claude says, and inclines himself in a low bow. Benjamin looks startled, and several nearby heads turn in our direction; clearly, someone like Claude bowing to someone like Benjamin isn’t commonplace.
“I accept your apology,” Benjamin says, though there’s still tension in his voice.
Claude straightens. “I’d also like to request another slot on Nora’s blood card.”
I’m glad he’s looking at Benjamin instead of me, because I’m pretty sure my face shows about five different emotions in the span of two seconds.
Benjamin is silent for a moment. Maybe he’s waiting for me to weigh in, but I’m flabbergasted.
“I don’t believe that’s the best idea,” he says, after a moment.
“I know what you saw back there, but I assure you, I remained quite in control,” Claude says.
“You looked like you wanted to devour her whole,” Benjamin says.
“But I did not,” Claude says, not denying it. When Benjamin remains implacable, he turns to me. “Please, Nora,” he says.
My mouth goes dry as I stare into those long-lashed eyes, so blue I could drown in them.
My heart skips a beat as I realize I want to say yes.
I want to feel that sharp-edged kiss on my wrist again—or on the curve of my neck.
I can picture myself swooning against him as he drinks my lifeblood, his strong arms cradling me…
And that terrifies me.
“No,” I say. “I trust my patron’s guidance.”
Claude stares at me. But he doesn’t try to press me like he did Benjamin. Instead he nods stiffly, turns, and walks to the nearest window, staring out at the grounds with an expression like a storm cloud. Sulking again, but at least he’s doing it away from me.
I let out a small, shaky breath.
Benjamin touches the small of my back. “Something wrong?”
“No. Nothing. I just…” Almost lost sight of what I’m here for.
This isn’t some fairy tale, and I meant what I said to Benjamin: not an artist. I don’t need that kind of flighty dramaticism right now.
I need someone steady and reliable, who will be on the same page as I am about this being a practical exchange of services.
“I’d like to meet some other potential patrons, please. ”
Anyone but him, I remind myself, but it takes every ounce of willpower in my body to resist looking over my shoulder at him as I walk away.
* * *
At the very least, Claude’s attention seems to have broken down whatever barrier made me unapproachable.
Soon enough, a pretty, dark-skinned woman with a Solomon moth earring comes asking after my blood card.
But after a few minutes of conversation about my background and my tasting notes, I notice she keeps glancing off to the side, her brow creased.
I follow her gaze to see Claude standing nearby, leaning against the wall, watching us without making any attempt to disguise either his interest or his dour expression.
The woman excuses herself shortly thereafter, and I suppress a sigh.
Benjamin leads me to the other side of the ballroom to talk to a pair of Celeste vampires.
They seem more interested in hearing about my future studies than my blood, yet again, I notice their attention drifting after a few minutes.
I turn around and see Claude, once more hovering nearby, now sitting on a chaise with one hand propping his chin up and his blue eyes locked on me.
The Celeste vampires soon find an excuse to leave us.
Without requesting a slot on my blood card, of course.
It’s still entirely empty except for Claude’s name claiming the first line, and we have mere minutes until I’m supposed to be giving blood for the second time tonight.
The night is still young, but I’m hyperaware that I have a limited amount of time to find a potential patron, which will be especially hard given my particular needs.
I grit my teeth, looking up at Benjamin. “How do I get rid of him?”
Benjamin grimaces and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I hate to leave you, but perhaps if I try approaching some potential patrons without you to make arrangements…”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “Please do. I insist.”
“You’re certain you’ll be fine?”
“Yes. I’ll stay right here.” Surely he won’t dare to do anything in full view of the ballroom.
Benjamin looks torn, but after a moment, he nods and steps into the crowd.
Leaving me with Claude. There is an entire ballroom of people nearby, and the chaise he’s chosen is a few yards away, but somehow it still feels as though the two of us are alone.
I know I should ignore him. But I can’t help myself.
“Claude,” I hiss.
He stares up at the ceiling.
“Lord Claude de Vulpe,” I say, louder.
He blinks slowly and lazily, like a cat, one leg swinging idly along the side of the chaise.
“Stop pretending you can’t hear me!”
He still doesn’t look over, but the corners of his lips curl subtly upward.
Burning with indignation, I consider tossing my blood card at him, but realize Benjamin took it with him to convince other patrons of my merits. Instead, I dig into my purse and grab the first thing I can find—a handkerchief. I ball it up and lob it at Claude.
His hand darts out, impossibly fast, and catches it midair. He glances sideways at me, one eyebrow raised.
Catching myself gaping, I clear my throat and regain my dignity. “You obviously craved my attention. Now you have it. What do you want?”
“Dahlias,” he says.
I blink. “…What?”
“On your dress.” He gestures to the flower appliqués. “They symbolize eternal love, in the Victorian language of flowers.”
I blink again. “Okay?”
“That is to say…” He sits up, fist tightening around my handkerchief. “You know what I want.”
I fold my arms over my chest. My heart is hammering, and I hate that it’s not entirely annoyance that’s bringing a flush to my cheeks. “I already told you no.”
“And I respected your no,” he says. “But did you think that was going to make me sit back and watch someone else have you?”
The heat in my face deepens. “Don’t say it like that.”
His brow furrows. “Like what?”
“Have me,” I repeat. “You make it sound intimate.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “It is.”
“You drink blood every night. It can’t possibly be an intimate experience every time.”
“Mm, no. It isn’t always.” His eyes seem to pierce right through me. Those breathtaking ocean depths. “But what happened between us was.”
“It-it wasn’t—” I stutter and then look away. If I force the words out, it will only make it more obvious that they’re a lie. “Look, I’ll be honest, that’s the problem. I’m not interested in intimacy.”
Claude shoots me a skeptical look. “You do realize the nature of a valentine is—”
“Transactional,” I finish for him. My face is so hot it’s probably steaming. “My blood tastes good, or so I’ve heard. And I need the money. That’s all this is for me. A job.”
I can’t risk it being anything more, I want to explain, but it’s too embarrassing to say aloud when he’s looking at me so intently.
Claude drops his gaze to the floor. Then he lifts his eyes to me again and stands. He crosses the space between us in three long, determined strides.
I startle at the speed of it, but I don’t step away.
Maybe the smart thing would be to yell for Benjamin, but no matter what he’s said, I can’t bring myself to see Claude as a threat.
And his eyes don’t have that dazed look from before when he drank from me.
They’re clear and focused, and very blue as he looks down at me.
“I can make that work,” he says.
It takes me a second to remember what we’re talking about. Right—a job. A transaction.
I shake my head. “I don’t believe you.”
“I’m serious.” He leans closer. Then he pauses, registering the way I automatically lean back from him. It’s not that I’m afraid, it’s just hard to think with his face so close to me. But maybe he misreads my expression, because after a moment he pulls back.
Then he drops to one knee in front of me.
My face heats. “What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Showing you how serious I am,” he says.
“People are staring!” And whispering. Laughing.
Yet Claude only shrugs, his eyes never leaving mine. “I don’t care. I need to explain—”
“Claude,” a voice says.
He seemed so immune to the earlier whispers and stares, but Claude snaps to sudden attention—his head up, his spine straight. He rises to his feet and turns slowly toward the source.
Benjamin is approaching us with an unfamiliar vampire at his side.
It’s the stranger that Claude’s attention is instantly focused on—a tall man with tousled brown waves falling to his broad shoulders.
He wears a classic black suit with only a single adornment: a golden snake pinned to his lapel.
His face is smooth, expressionless, but when his green eyes flick to mine, it feels as though I’ve been plunged into ice water.
I only breathe when they shift away from me.
My throat still feels tight, my heart thumping rapidly.
I look at Benjamin, who I realize is standing behind the man instead of directly at his side, with his gaze lowered to the floor.
And then to Claude, who still hasn’t moved since this vampire said his name.
“Sire,” Claude murmurs, lowering his head.
“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” the man says. He flicks his wrist. “Go.”
Claude leaves without a glance back at me, his head still lowered.
My stomach swoops as the man’s attention returns to me. It isn’t the same fluttering feeling that Claude gave me, but an unpleasant, deep twist. His gaze pins me as he moves closer, and I weave my fingers together behind my back to prevent them from trembling.
Benjamin stands beside him, hands clasped behind his back. “Nora. I’d like to introduce you to Lord Ambrose de Vulpe. He sought me out to inquire about your blood.”
I steal a sideways glance at Benjamin. His posture is stiff. He sought me out, he specified. He isn’t giving me an option like he did with Claude, even though he knows of my aversion to the Vulpe court.
The warning is clear: this man is dangerous.